


Celebration

by Beregond5



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beregond5/pseuds/Beregond5
Summary: Zevran barely remembered the last time he had worn finery for a special occasion. Now that the archdemon is dead and his Grey Warden is alive, he has his chance.





	

Zevran barely remembered the last time he had worn such finery like silk shirts and finely sewn trousers that were made just for truly special occasions. He had barely needed them as a Crow and, as one of the Grey Warden’s companions, well… the darkspawn would hardly stay their blades to admire his taste in clothes. But now, after a year of constant war and fighting, Zevran finally had his chance. And it was to celebrate a victory that had seemed nigh impossible when that adventure of his began. More importantly, it was a victory accomplished by practically one man alone.

Not that Mahariel would ever say it. He was simply too low-key to ever claim that sort of thing. Zevran supposed that it had to do with his origins. It was true that his Dalish upbringing gifted Mahariel with a sense of integrity, a love for the simpler things in life, as well as an unrefined air. Still, Zevran felt that, this time around, at least, he could have worn something more fitting for the occasion. Instead, the Grey Warden was stuck in the same armour he had worn when he slay the archdemon. Yes, it had been cleaned of all the bloodstains, making it presentable once more, but it was hardly elegant. 

Not that there weren’t those who thought differently. Zevran had seen two human women giggling and casting approving looks in Mahariel’s direction and, if anything, it made him think how quickly humans forgot their contempt towards elves. And that worked both ways, apparently. Indeed, Zevran had heard of Mahariel’s decision, and it had set the assassin thinking in a desire to weigh his options. For if he stayed, the Crows were bound to find him and try to kill him. His Grey Warden would probably send them kicking back to Antiva if that ever happened, of course, but Zevran wasn’t sure if that would be enough; the Crows always found a way to accomplish their goals. 

And yet… Could Zevran really leave? For a whole year, he had traveled with this fellow elf, fought beside him, bantered with him, teased him and even loved him - especially in a time that all he had wanted was to find death. How could he just put behind the best and luckiest thing that had ever happened in his life?

His answer came in the form of the very elf himself, walking up to him with lips tugged into that honest smile, so different from the smiles that spoke of betrayal back in Antiva. And as he looked upon the green eyes, bright and free from the grim expression that had been there from the moment they had first met, Zevran had to admit to himself that his Grey Warden was truly beautiful.

“I can’t wait for the celebrations to be over. This place is so open that it’s begging for assassination attempts,” he said, smirking at Mahariel. 

Mahariel cocked his head, sobering a bit. “You still think they’ll come after you?”

“Yes, it is inevitable, unfortunately,” Zevran replied. “If I play my cards right though, I’ll have a pretty long life.”

Mahariel nodded, his eyes becoming thoughtful. Zevran winced inwardly as he realized that that was something that his fellow elf hadn’t wanted to hear.

“So… I hear you’re going to stay and rebuild your order,” he said, changing the subject.

“I have to; the darkspawn are still out there,” Mahariel answered. “This time we should be ready for them.”

“And what about your people? I’m pretty sure they would welcome you back.”

The dalish shook his head. “Though they might, I will serve them better if I stay here, in the front lines.”

“Oh? Is that the only reason?”

Mahariel looked up at the assassin in a shy manner. “Not really, no. Will you stay with me?”

Zevran chuckled before he could help it. His Grey Warden was so sweet like this, such a far cry from the passionate glances and charming smirks of his former lovers. It made it almost impossible to picture him as a dragonslayer and a Warden-commander. Moreover, it was flattering to see Mahariel put his guard down for his sake, showing him the softer and more tender side of him. And though they both now treaded into a territory that was different and unfamiliar… Zevran felt more than just prepared to traverse it. For him.

“Well, what can I say to that? It looks you’re stuck with me,” he said.

Mahariel’s shyness was replaced with a joyous smile, and the dalish instantly reached out to hug Zevran.

“Ah, ah, ah…” the assassin grinned, stepping back from the attempted embrace. “You need to greet your adoring crowd first. Celebrational ravishing can come later.”

Mahariel blinked, and then feigned a pout. “Spoilsport.”

“Oh, but I assure you the wait will be worthwhile,” Zevran said with a wink, and he gently prodded his lover towards the balcony.

They would have plenty of ‘alone-time’ later.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing special about it, just felt like writing the little scene. I hope you've enjoyed the reading. :)


End file.
